


Rage

by RobotCryBaby



Series: Whirlwinds [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21866170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobotCryBaby/pseuds/RobotCryBaby
Summary: Can you call something a nightmare when it’s just your memories? Whirl never liked calling them “nightmares” or “night terrors” as Rung had referred to them. The blurred visions recounting his events never frightened him, they just made him angry."Everyone deals with fear differently, Whirl." He thinks that’s a load of slag, doctor eyebrows obviously hasn’t been truly angry in his life.Anger. Rage. Those feelings are raw and tangible, something to kick your aft in gear. Fear is just another word for “Cowardice” mixed with “Vulnerability”. Neither of which Whirl ever felt.That’s what he felt, onlining from his not-nightmare. Rage.
Series: Whirlwinds [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574353
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Rage

The pain from his memories still lingered, the joints in his claws and neck felt excruciating as he onlined from his short recharge. There hadn’t been a time since he underwent Empurata that he hasn’t been in some varying degree of pain. This however, felt raw and fresh. He clenched a claw onto his berth hard enough to send shockwaves of pain throughout his frame.

He lept up from his berth and began to mercilessly pound the slab. Each strike felt like a hot energy blast to his joints, but Whirl refused to let a little pain beat him. He’d been beaten enough. The Functionists. Decepticons. Frag, other Autobots even.

He continued to pummel his berth into a bent heap of scrap metal, then proceeded to add more holes and dents to the walls of his habsuite. Rage and spite fuelled him. He let out a scream as his wrist joint snapped. He stopped, venting heavily, mind lightyears away when his door pinged from the outside.

He swung around and kicked open the door, guns draw, and murder in his optic. The bot on the other end, probably one of Whirl’s neighbors, stood in shock. Whirl needed to punch something.

He grabbed the other mech and slammed him into the floor as he repeatedly smashed his free claw into his helm. The other bot kicked Whirl off and went to grapple the Ex-Wrecker. The tussle continued, each giving the other blows aimed to kill. Whirl needed to kill something. A passing trio of mechs saw the fight and immediately sprung into action, leaping onto Whirl from behind. They wrestled him to the ground and continued to hurt him until he was hunched over himself next to his destroyed habsuite door.

The mech who had originally pinged his door gave a final swift kick to Whirl’s helm before storming off.

Whirl groaned as he laid on the floor, slowly dripping energon from a few gashes along his frame. He pushed himself up, wobbling as he stood, and stumbled towards Swerve’s bar. It was too early for the establishment to be open yet, but Whirl knew some workarounds. One way or another, he was gonna forget everything for at least a little while.

Swerve received a notification on his comm-link indicating an unauthorized entrance to his bar. With a groan he dragged his pedes to the door, only to find it completely smashed to pieces. Shaking, he peered inside, optics widening at the sight before him.

Whirl was laying on top of the counter, with tubes of highgrade directly inserted into his intake port. Usually when Whirl would partake in drinking, he would request a straw and drink it through the port in his helm that acted as his “normal” intake. Today however, he had bypassed that all together and had the highgrade flowing directly into his chassis.

“W-Whirl?” Swerve stuttered. Whirl laid unmoving, he had assumed the Wrecker had passed out. Instead, Whirl’s helm shot up, his single optic stared directly as Swerve, as though he was trying to vaporize the bartender with just his gaze.

“Beat it, you pint-sized chatterbox. Bars closed!” Whirl growled, static filling his voice as he spoke.

Swerve squeaked and hastily exited the bar as he commed for Cyclonus. Moments later the ex-Decepticon and Tailgate ran to the scene.

Swerve stopped them in the hallway before they could enter.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who to call. I didn’t want to get Magnus involved just yet. I kinda know how he feels, he just needs some friends I think.”

Cyclonus placed a large servo on the shivering mech’s shoulder plate. “I am glad that you called us.” With that, they strode into the hurricane of Whirl.

Whirl was now sitting against the counter, highgrade still feeding to his chassis, and trying to wrench pieces of his frame off his arm. His claws slipped, clashing together, causing Whirl to try again with more fervor. He had already succeeded in snapping a few pieces off, which lay scattered around him on the energon soaked floor.

“Whirl?” Tailgate hesitantly approached the bigger mech.

Whirl’s optic snapped to the minibot and curled up in a half moon. “Marshmallow!!! Come here, look at all the cool stuff that’s inside my arm! You’re tiny, you could probably reach even further, come give your old pal Whirl a hand!” he said chipperly, though at the mention of “hand”, his optic darkened significantly. As if only noticing the glowering Cyclonus now, Whirl perked up.

“Oh, scratch that Tailsy, I’ve got a better idea! Tall, dark and scary over there can just come and finish me off instead.” Whirl gestured to Cyclonus, who was standing protectively behind Tailgate.

“I will not fight you, Whirl.”

“LAAAAAME! Come on, Cycs! For old times sake? One enemy to another?” Whirl goaded.

“We are not enemies, Whirl. I consider you a friend, we both do.” Cyclonus studied the wrecker, concern in his optics. “I will not fight you, and I certainly will not kill you.”

Whirl’s optic turned into a slit and he jumped to his pedes. “We’re not friends,” he scoffed, “don’t be an idiot! Me? Friends?! Miss me with that slag!” He stumbled back and fell on his aft. “No one deserves to have someone like me.” he mumbled to himself, only Tailgate able to hear it near enough to be able to touch Whirl.

“Whirl, it’s okay. We’re here for you. Let’s go back to your habsuite.” Tailgate extended his field to meet Whirl’s, sending out feelings of concern, trust and affection, hoping to calm the other mech down.

Whirl reeled as Tailgate’s field made contact with his. Trust. Concern. Affection. Mech’s didn’t feel these things for Whirl. Whirl was either feared or despised, or a combination of both. The rage that had slowly settled suddenly burst back into him. With a yell, Whirl took a swipe at Tailgate with his claw, Cyclonus jumped in and wrenched Whirl’s arm back before it could make contact with the minibot.

Cyclonus continued to wrestle a struggling Whirl as Tailgate spoke up. “We should call Rung.”

“No. There’s no getting to him when he’s like this. We need to call Magnus.” Tailgate frowned but complied, knowing that Magnus’ involvement would end up with Whirl in the brig once again. Cyclonus had successfully pinned Whirl’s arms to his sides, sitting on his back.

“Frag off, Decpti-freak! Why don’t you just kill me?! Tons of bots would love to be in your place, don’t waste such a golden opportunity here!” Whirl was talking a mile a minute, helm squished against the floor. “Come on, big guy. I’ll make it real good for you, I’ll even beg if that’s what get’s you going. Probably does you horned-”

“Whirl, enough!” Cyclonus interrupted him.

Whirl then began to slam his helm with as much force possible into the floor, adding even more dents to the ones from before. Tailgate rushed over to try and stop the Wrecker from doing more serious damage to himself, trying to hold Whirl’s helm still, but Whirl was determined.

“Frag off! Get the frag off me! Just let me do this! It’ll be my one act of kindness!” Whirl screamed.

Ultra Magnus stormed into the bar to find Whirl pinned beneath Cyclonus and a worrying Tailgate as he screamed. With the three of them together, they were able to secure stasis cuffs around Whirl’s rotors and ankles. In the scuffle Magnus had commed for Ratchet in case Whirl would need to be subdued. The medic came in brandishing an injection that would knock Whirl out.

“Whirl, I need you to stay very still, okay?” Ratchet spoke calmly.

In an instant Whirl froze. “No, don’t.” His voice was soft, pain and fear evident in his tone. Everyone in the room froze. “Don’t.” Whirl pleaded.

Shocked, no one moved. No one even knew how to act. Whirl had never said anything softly or in fear. Ratchet was the first to respond.

“I won’t put you under if you promise to stay still and do what Magnus tells you, okay?” Ratchet asked. Whirl just nodded his helm and remained silent. Magnus bodily dragged Whirl up from the ground and pushed him in the direction of the hallway.

“Alright, start walking to the brig.”

“No.” Ratchet interrupted. “He’s probably suffering from highgrade poisoning. I’ll need to purge his tanks.”

“He can purge it himself once he’s locked up.” Magnus sneered.

“No, he can’t. Whirl doesn’t have an intake like we do. He needs specialized tools and time to purge. Not to mention his helm and frame are badly dented and leaking energon everywhere!”

Magnus scoffed and nodded. Ratchet lead the way as Magnus escorted Whirl to medbay.


End file.
